


The Trouble With Flowers

by InnerSpectrum



Series: Mystrade is Our Division Prompts [26]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst and Feels, Facebook: Mystrade is our Division Fic Prompts, Mystrade Prompt Challenge, Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 05:05:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17543222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: Greg Lestrade receives flowers from an unexpected source.





	The Trouble With Flowers

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Alone On the Water](https://archiveofourown.org/works/210785) by [Mad_Lori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Lori/pseuds/Mad_Lori). 



> Written for Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts | Trouble.

Ninety minutes previous, Chief Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade had opened the unexpected bouquet of a single white tulip from delivery. Boxed and arranged as any standard floral arrangement would have been, except it was for one solitary stem. Thirty minutes previous, he unwrapped another delivery - a single white rose. There was no mistake.

“ _More to come…_ ” Sergeant Sally Donovan raised an inquisitive brow as she read the attached card. It was the same message as the first delivery. “Well this is…different.” 

“I know.” Greg shrugged as he looked at the newest flower placed beside its partner behind him on the table by the window. “I called the florist after the rose arrived. The owner said this was something arranged a long time ago according to the directions given. It was a cash payment. He sent an email of the receipt. The instructions were typed and the signature was a decisive scribble that was of no help He was simply fulfilling the order as directed. To send one specific flower each hour. The best I could get was for him to do was to agree to send the remaining flowers with the next shipment and spare his people the repeated trips.”  

“Looking forward to seeing the rest.” Donovan smiled.

“Well you don’t have to wait long.” Greg pointed at the door as an array of white arrived on a cart. An older man accompanied the cart and Greg somehow knew it was the florist he had spoken to.

“Wow. Let me make room.” Sally immediately rose and moved her chair as Greg simultaneously turned and made more room on the table behind him.

“Mr. Lestrade? I am Carlton. The florist you spoke to on the phone.” The man held his hand out.

“I guessed as much.” Greg smiled shook the proffered hand. “I still have no idea what this is for.”

“I understand. I appreciate you letting me do this en masse. Still, these instructions were so oddly specific, I figured the least I can do is present everything to you in the correct order and perhaps at the end it may mean something.”

“Sure. Let’s give it a try.” Greg nodded.

“All the cards, except the last, say the same thing. The last is in a sealed envelope, I will give you that after the last flower.” Carlton picked up a vase. “You have the tulip and the rose. Next is the orchid.”

Carlton passed it to Greg, who passed it to Sally, who placed it on the table.

In order Lestrade received one of each: tulip, rose, orchid, ursinia, buttercup, larkspur and edelweiss. All in white. They made a lovely display on the table. Carlton also handed Greg the original receipt.

“The date was torn off. A long time ago.” Sally looked at the paper. “This is at least a year or two old from the look of it.”

“That had to have been done on purpose as well. Regrettably, Jacques, the employee who made the transaction died a few months ago. He was sick, we knew. He did not tell me who the order came from, but he made me promise that I would fulfill it. That it was important. We started using these receipts five years ago. That is the best I can date it for you.” Carlton offered. “Here’s the last card.”

“It’s better than nothing I guess.” Greg agreed as he took the envelope Carlton held out. “Unfortunately, other than being lovely to look at, it has no meaning I can think of.”

“Well, perhaps it will come to you later. That’s all I have.” Carlton shrugged.

Greg and Sally thanked him and watched as he and delivery left. Sally closed the office door before she looked to Greg who still held the envelope with the last card in his hand.

“Would you like…” Sal pointed at herself and then the door questioningly.

“Oh no. Stay Sal.” Greg shook his head as he opened the envelope and read.

Sally frowned as she saw her boss’ face. “Greg…?”

“Get out.” Greg gasped as he looked at the flowers again, then realized how he sounded. He looked to his partner. “I know what this is, now. Sorry, I need a moment Sal, please?”

As she left, Greg took a picture of the flowers and sent a text. He then closed the blinds to his office and waited. The response to his text arrived an hour later in the form of his husband of three months, Mycroft Holmes.

“T-R-O-U-B-L-E. I couldn’t tell what they all were in the picture.” Mycroft sighed in understanding as he saw the flowers in person, “I spoke with John on the way here – his red flowers spelled _My Love_. The blue flowers sent to me spelled _Brother Mine_. He knows we would have taken the day off to visit his grave. This way he made sure we got them.”

One year ago, yesterday, William Sherlock Scott Holmes succumbed to the ravages of brain cancer at home.  

Greg handed Mycroft the card as the two men held each other.

“ _Sorry for all that I caused you over the years. This will be the last time. It really was a good run while it lasted. Thank you, Geoff- George-Giles-Graham oh right - Greg_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Because I can imagine Sherlock having done exactly this while John was out.


End file.
